Restaurant Week – how I love thee.
I’ve been dreaming of the $20 3 course gourmet lunch I was supposed to have today for two weeks. When else can you justify going to over-hyped, over-priced celebrity restaurants?
I’ve been foiled though. By a teething 10 month old, my overly dedicated workaholic husband and frankly, myself.
In celebration of the bi-annual restaurant week price cuts and Matt’s last week at his downtown job, we made reservations for lunch.
(Oh, by the way, in case you hadn’t heard yet, Matt did get the super short commute-more money-less responsibility job he interviewed for a while back. He interviewed on a Wednesday and was informally offered the job that Friday. It didn’t become official though until two weeks ago. You know, those Human Resources folks have a lot going on with all the doughnut eating and water cooler talk. It takes a while to get these things co-ordinated.)
Anyway, we made these reservations with a semi-complicated plan to go along with them. I would be dropped off at work earlier than normal, take the shuttle bus downtown and walk 2 miles to the restaurant (my choice to help burn the decadent calories.) After, we would go back to Matt’s office, pick up the car, buy large amounts of Two Buck Chuck at Trader Joe's, drive back up to my work to pick up Grace and still be home before normal.
It was brilliant! How could the plan fail?
Well, the other side of her mouth – you know, the teeth I was anxious for to balance out her kisser – decided to do some movement last night. Maybe I am exaggerating, but I’m fairly certain she cried from 11pm-2am. Matt held her for a good portion of those hours.
We are all tired this morning. Well, Gracie seems fine, but did sleep in 45 minutes later than normal. Matt & I are tired. Exhausted. I refused to get out of bed. I had to take a picture this morning!
We slept in. Well, I slept in. Matt can never go back to sleep.
So now, we are running over an hour behind schedule. The amount of leave I need to take the afternoon off doubled and Matt realized that he needed more than 3 hours of time at the office.
Consider the afternoon canceled. I will pout all day and resent every bite of food eaten at lunch.
Next year. Next year is a long time away though. *Sniff*